


Ready Steady Go

by merisunshine36



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Service, Shame, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:32:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merisunshine36/pseuds/merisunshine36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is always there to take care of Steve, even when it comes to things they'd rather not talk about. (pre-serum Steve/Bucky)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready Steady Go

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as a response to [this prompt](http://wanton-avengers.livejournal.com/2399.html?thread=13919#t13919).

Steve wakes up some time in the early hours of the morning, dimly aware of the heavy weight that is Bucky, sprawled out on top of him on the thin mattress they share. They can't afford another, and in the winter its as good a tactic as any to conserve warmth--or at least that's what they used to tell each other. Now they just don't say anything about it at all.

Yesterday was spent out on the frozen streets of Brooklyn hawking papers, followed by an evening down at the pub on the corner with Bucky and three excitable schoolgirls. It didn't do him any favors. Steve can already feel a fever coming on. He feels weak all over, cold and clammy despite being curled up in the lion's share of the old quilt his mother made for him. It's a million different colors, pieced together over the years from all the trimmings of the sewing she took in to keep them both fed. That and her wedding ring on a thin silver chain are all he has left of her now.

Steve presses the heel of his palm against his crotch, desperate to relieve the pressure. The little chamber pot they share is under the bed, but it may as well be a mile away. His bladder is painful and heavy, and if he doesn't move real soon something unpleasant is going to happen. He shoves ineffectively at Bucky's warm weight, who buries his face deeper into the side of Steve's neck.

"Buck, you gotta get up," Steve begs. Bucky just gives Steve a sleepy kiss, then shifts his leg further between Steve's thighs so that it's pressed right up against his dick. Steve pinches him on his side and Bucky's eyes fly open, his expression bleary and confused in the bit of sunlight that's forced its way in past the years worth of dirt caked on the windowpanes.

"What is it, big guy?" asks Bucky. Now that he's awake, he's already groping around in the semi-darkness for a match to light one of the fat old candles they keep everywhere. The sputtering flame throws off enough light to see the worried expression on Bucky's face. 

"It's nothing, I just need to take a piss," he says, trying to sound casual. Steve struggles to sit up, but his arms won't take his weight. He swears under his breath--he must be sicker than he thought.

"You're sweating like a stuck pig, Rogers." Bucky ruffles his hair and pushes him back down on the bed like it takes no effort at all. "Why don't you just let me help you?"

Steve flushes all over, ashamed. He's eighteen now--Bucky shouldn't have to watch over him all the time like this.

"It's nothing, Buck, go back to sleep, I'm not a baby." Gritting his teeth, Steve pushes himself up into a sitting position. His arms are shaking, and his heart flutters in his chest, but he remains upright long enough that getting to his feet starts to seem like less of a pipe dream.

And then his body gives out on him, and a slow trickle of warmth escapes, leaking down the inside of his thigh and down his asscrack. Steve lets out a small cry, a combination of upset at his predicament and sweet, sweet relief.

Bucky moves to pull the quilt away from his lap, and Steve tries ineffectively to stop him. Even though he's not finished yet, even though the need to just let go is worse than ever now.

"Oh, Steve," is all Bucky says when he sees the wet patch on Steve's underwear. He leans over the side of the bed and brings up the little pot, a squat vessel made of aluminum coated in stark white enamel. "Let me handle this, okay?"

Steve just nods into the pillow, defeated, his face hot with shame. A few tears escape onto the scratchy cloth against his face, and he's grateful that Bucky can't see. The ache of waiting is only a dull roar now, one more voice in the chorus of aches and pains that has followed him all his life.

Bucky unties the string holding up Steve's underwear and works it down over his legs and feet, then tosses them to the floor. The sudden wash of cold air makes Steve's muscles seize until Bucky slips in behind him, his broad chest against Steve's back and strong thighs bracketing Steve's narrow hips. Gently, he lifts Steve's cock and rests it against the lip of the pot. The sharp cold makes Steve squirm all over, makes him long for the warmth of a few seconds ago. He digs his fingers into Bucky's thighs. Bucky kisses him on his forehead and waits, patient as always.

"You should just leave," Steve mutters. He doesn't like the the idea of Bucky watching.

"Come on, buddy." Bucky rubs his stomach in soothing circles, his fingers darting down occasionally to scratch idly through the wiry hair at Steve's crotch. "It'll make you feel better."

Steve's hips jerk a little, but he just shakes his head weakly. Sweat-damp hair falls into his eyes, but he can't get up the energy to brush it away. He's just a mess of sensations now, all centered on his bladder, which feels like it's going to explode. "I can't, Buck. Please go away."

Bucky sighs, and wraps his arm around Steve's chest, holding him up. He presses his mouth to Steve's ear, and says in a low voice, "I'm not asking you anymore, Rogers. Let. _Go._

Steve gives a surprised cry as his body just _releases_ , letting a steady stream of liquid into the pot, the tinny echo the only sound in the room. Tiny waves of heat and cold run up and down his legs as Bucky guides him through it, one hand on his stomach, one hand gentle on his cock, pressing soft kisses against the side of his neck. 

Bucky shakes off the last lingering droplets as Steve slowly comes back to himself. The sharp odor of his own piss hangs in the air, and the contents of the pan slosh back and forth as Bucky slides it under the bed again. Carefully, Bucky wiggles out from beneath Steve, then goes to wet a rag at the jug of water in the corner, floorboards creaking all the way. He hesitates first, then buries his nose in the crease of Steve's thigh, where it still smells like sweat and warm, wet piss.

"Fuck," Bucky groans, face hidden away. "The things you make me do."

Steve doesn't move a muscle, but he can't keep his body from responding to the nearness of Bucky's mouth. By the time Bucky sits up and begins to wipe Steve down carefully--thighs first, then the sensitive skin near his balls, saving the best for last--Steve's cock is already starting to grow thicker, a heavy weight against his thigh. 

Bucky's face is serious throughout the whole thing, although there is a little bit of disappointment on his face when he tucks Steve back inside a clean pair of underwear and wraps him up in a pile of quilts once more. Bucky gets back under the covers with him, and the way his hard-on is poking into Steve's back doesn't escape Steve's notice, either.

"Hey, Buck--" Steve begins. His eyelids are already heavy, but he feels like he should say something. Maybe a thank you, although this was above and beyond the regular duties of friendship, even a friendship as...special as theirs is.

"Steve, don't--" Bucky clamps a hand over his mouth. It still smells a little. "Just go back to sleep, okay?"

Steve drags his tongue over Bucky's fingers, imagining that he can still detect the sour taste of himself. He hears Bucky laugh softly in response. Steve just pulls Bucky's arm lower, around his waist, and lets himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
